


Mr Blue Sky

by hetrez



Category: Hawkeye (Comics)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-02
Updated: 2014-01-02
Packaged: 2018-01-07 04:10:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1115338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hetrez/pseuds/hetrez
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set immediately after Hawkeye #6, "Six Days In The Life Of". Clint and Kate talk a little more about his moronic attempt at a parting gift, and settle some things.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mr Blue Sky

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers for Hawkeye #6.

After Simone and the little Simones left, Clint turned off the Christmas movies and lay on his back on the living room floor. The new apartment smelled different, more yellow maybe, and there was a stain in the corner of the ceiling that he wasn't used to. But the floors were the same rough wood. His couch was the same at the corner of his eye, and Lucky was the same warm lump pressed up against his side. This was a good place, he thought.

He was debating getting up and putting up some colored lights vs lying there until his back started to ache, when he heard a knock at the door.

It was Kate. She had ditched the glasses, but her scowl was the same. "I want to come in," she said.

Clint stepped back from the door.

Kate prowled around, taking in his entertainment system and the lack of boxes. She glanced at his face, her eyes flicking over the tape on his nose and the healing bruise on his jaw. Clint tried not to hunch like a turtle. "I've decided to be the bigger man," she said. "Since you are clearly incapable."

Clint said, "Okay. You wanna sit down?"

The scowl on her face turned into a frown. "Okay?"

Clint sighed. "Sit down, Katie. You can yell at me all you want once you get comfortable."

"I'm not here to -- whatever," she said. "You, sit there." She settled on the couch, wedging herself into the corner furthest from him. Clint sat. "Okay, so."

Clint felt twitchy and cornered. He sprawled out on his side of the couch, one arm slung casually along the back. "So," he said, kicking his feet out. Kate rolled her eyes and him, but then her face smoothed out and got serious.

"I'm sorry I didn't help you with your mafioso problem," she said.

Clint sat back up. "What? Katie, no, come on --"

"Shut up," she said, shoving a finger in his face. "You think I like watching you stumble around on crutches all the time, looking like the world has just gotten finished chewing on your face? It's not awesome, Clint."

"Hey, now," he said. "That's my job."

"We have the _same goddamn job_ ," she said. She waved her hands around and then grabbed at her hair.

"Katie," he said, baffled. "Why are you so angry?"

She glared at him and then waved her hands around some more. "You were going to leave," she said.

"I told you, it seemed like the best idea."

"Because you didn't think I'd have your back. You gave up on me. Do you have any idea how important -- and you didn't think I would come if you asked? If you even just _looked_ my way?" She wiped a hand across her face, smearing tears. Clint felt like the worst bastard alive.

"No," he said, helpless. "That's not why."

"Shut up," she said. She scrubbed her nose. "Just. God. Ugh, gimme a tissue or something."

Clint scooted across the couch and dabbed at her tears with his sleeve, which made her laugh. She leaned her face into his hand, and he curled his free arm around her until she was leaning against his chest. He ran his hand up and down her arm, adjusting around her as she slowly relaxed against him. They were quiet for long enough that he got distracted by the whuff of Lucky's breathing. He noticed another stain on the ceiling, shaped a little bit like Texas. He lost himself in the smell of her hair.

"Katie-girl," he said. "You gotta understand. The only thing good about me is the stuff I got, and I gotta take care of it the best way I know."

She shook her head but stayed flopped against his chest. "That's stupid," she said. "No."

"Yeah," he countered. "I mean, take you for example. You know how many times you've saved my ass? Because I don't. You're amazing. I was just this schmuck, and you took my name and started fighting, it made me feel like a hero, you know? I've been an Avenger a long time, but that was different."

She lifted her head and looked at him. Her bangs were rucked up from where she'd pressed against his chest, and her cheeks and nose were red. Clint felt something shift inside his chest, looking at her. His eyes went wide. _Oh, no_ , he thought.

She frowned, reaching for him, and he scrambled back to safety on the other side of the couch.

"Clint," she said.

"I, ah," he said, looking around. That stain in the shape of Texas sure was interesting. "So anyway, Merry Christmas and everything. I promise I won't courier you my longbow again."

"Clint," she said again, and he shook his head. His heart was beating too fast and too hard.

"Maybe you should go," he said. "Come back tomorrow or something, we can watch Dog Cops. I'll get you a present that doesn't make you cry."

He felt the shift of the couch as she stood up, but he didn't look over. She walked until she was in his line of sight and then reached out toward his shoulder, almost touching but not quite. Clint felt a shuddery heat in his shoulder, as if she had touched him. He said, "Girlie-girl, you oughta leave. This isn't any good at all."

From the corner of his eye, he saw Kate's hand approaching. He braced himself for her touch, but it still shocked him. She slid her hand along his shoulder to his neck, until she was cupping his jaw. He looked up at her, expecting to see -- he didn't know. She looked scared, happy, confused. She looked beautiful.

She said, "You can't leave again."

He nodded. "I can't," he agreed. Not now. Not with this new thing in his chest, and the feeling of Kate's hand on his jaw.

"I'm not going to leave you either," she said. Clint closed his eyes. "No," she said, shoving his face a little, "Look at me."

Clint opened his eyes again. He wanted to reach out and cradle her hips in the palms of his hands. He wanted to run his fingers through her hair, and lick her belly, and wipe her nose with his shirtsleeves until he didn't have any shirts left. He wanted to watch her shoot, and he wanted her at his back. But he always wanted that. He cleared his throat, and licked his lips. "I, uh. I don't know, I'm supposed to be the. Katie."

She took pity on him, as always. "Tell me that you want me to stay. I know you do, but I want to hear it."

Clint said, "I want you to stay. With me. I don't want to run away from you, I don't want to lose your, to lose any of it. Stay."

Kate smiled, and he felt full and shaken. "Okay," she said. She sat down next to him, leaned in close, and kissed him.

"Hmm," he said, caught up in the softness of her mouth.

"Can't get rid of me now," she said. "Don't even try. No more bows in the mail."

"I won't," Clint promised. He slipped his tongue out to taste the corner of her mouth, and laughed when she grabbed at his shoulders. He felt as if he had been flying on a trapeze for too long, and just now he had come, with sudden perfection, to land on the ground.


End file.
